


and in every version (there's us)

by runimpossiblegirl



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Drabble Collection, F/M, Mostly Polin but I could write other stuff who knows, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, crossposting from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runimpossiblegirl/pseuds/runimpossiblegirl
Summary: Drabbles cross-posted from tumblr, probably just Polin centered.#1: Based on a Shruti post about Colin calling his car a carriage in a modern AU. Mature-explicit?
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	and in every version (there's us)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm like semi-back? At the end of january i got an emergency call because the ICU in a friend's hospital was in need of more people for the Covid unit (I'm a Kinesiologist - Respiratory therapist) so I moved away that same day, started the job the next one and just two days ago I got the time to go home and pick up my computer and a few other things (I'm now back at my job city). 
> 
> You can imagine things are very stressing (and I miss writing a lot but I just don't have the energy for it) but I'm hoping to be able to squeeze some short things now that I'm not only in a tiny screen.
> 
> Some of you probably saw this on tumblr a couple weeks ago but I wanted to post it here, too, for those who aren't there. This note is probably as long as the #1 drabble so I'll finish here ;)

Colin loves this car. More than what is normal for a shiny thing that—he must admit—costed a lot of thousands of pounds that could have gone to a more noble cause.

He loves it so much that he doesn’t allow his siblings to put their sports equipment on the trunk for their monthly game reunion. So much that he doesn’t allow Kate’s adorable dog as a passenger even if that means Kate won’t talk to him the day after. So damn much he once punched Benedict for stealing his keys to move a painting—beautiful of course, not even angry can he deny his older brother’s talent—that was still wet.

But right now? Right now all he wants is for Penelope to make a mess in his beloved ride. To be able to see her mark in it, to smell them together every time he turns on the ignition.

He’s not even sure of they got to this point, with his seat as reclined as possible—which is not that much—and the redheaded girl he’s known for twelve years straddling him as he clutches to her desperately and tries to steal her whole breath with his mouth.

He remembers them arguing about her being in a bad neighborhood alone when it’s more than eleven pm—they had never fought as much as they have been doing since he returned to London two weeks ago, he now sees the constant rounds his family has been complaining about for the accumulated tension that was waiting just the perfect moment to explode—demanding for her to get on the damn car already only for her to ignore him and keep walking because, “You are not my fucking brother to tell me what to do, Colin!”

He had been shocked by the statement. Actually, _no_. He had been shocked by the fact that he really didn’t see her as a sister—or as the extension of one—and had felt real fear when he saw her bright hair from the distance, walking alone in a bad lighten street, like a beacon for some criminal.

At some point in those twelve years of acquaintance Penelope Featherington’ safety had become crucial to him and he had just realized it five minutes ago while driving his car.

Fear had him actually begging for her to get in the car, and eventually she had sighed and climbed on, though not more friendly than in the beginning.

And then they were fighting again until he just had to stop to try to talk some sense into her—in and equally dark street—and she’d tried to get out and he’d blocked the attempt by stretching over her and then… then they were right there, just a few inches away, breathing hard and not moving away.

At the end he’d whispered, “You are driving me bloody insane,” but it had been Penelope—brave, funny, _beautiful_ Penelope—the one to close the space between them to seal her lips to his.

It had been sweet and soft, just a touch of their slightly open mouths against each other and then the tip of her tongue in the bow of his upper lip.

Colin had trembled and lost any resemblance of control after that, angling his head and pushing firmly against her until she had moaned and opened her mouth so he could explore at will.

And he had, but then the position had started to get too awkward for his neck and when he moved back instead of staying in her seat she had _followed him_.

And now they were here. Penelope on his lap, legs framing his hips, skirt ridding up as one of his hands keeps her close by tangling in her hair and the other clutches her lovely ass. The windows of his car are completely fogged and if someone were to try and steal from them right now he would give away his keys easily just for ten more minutes with her in this position.

His trousers are made of a very thin and soft fabric, and he can feel her grinding against his hard on, trying to hit the right spot. She mewls and whimpers and eventually manages to get out a demanding, “Please, Colin.” But is not until she sucks on his tongue that he moves his hand away from her curls—she’s certainly not getting away from him—and slides his fingers to her panties.

She’s so wet he’s sure his pants will carry a stain once they manage to get out of the car but the thought only makes him ridiculously proud. He wants to taste her, to have against every surface of his home and hers. To claim her in every possible way because he owes her after all this time and he’s slow but not stupid and there’s no way he’ll walk away from this. From her and her mind and her curves and the way her eyes always look at him as if could do anything in the world? He’s done running away. But right now he just need to make her come so the edge is off and they can use their words again, even if he’s already more than half in love with this new secret language of touches and stolen breaths.

He uses his thumb to collect some of the wetness between her legs and starts circling her clit, slow and steady, in a constant rhythm that has her panting and clutching his hair in just a few minutes. Colin keeps his eyes on her face the whole time, not willing to miss a single second of the experience and when her breathing gets so fast he’s not even sure she’s getting enough oxygen he thrust his middle finger inside her— _she’s so damn tight_ —and curls it slightly, never stopping the movements of his thumb.

Then Penelope shatters in his arms with a litany of his name in her lips.

It’s the most exciting experience of his whole life. No new country compares, no other partner. And all they have done is fool around in his beloved car.

He caresses her back while she’s getting her breath back, her head in the crock of his neck. A few minutes later Penelope whispers a horrified, “Your car!”

“It’s okay,” Colin says with a smile in his voice.

“No it’s not, we—I made a mess,” she continues.

“ _We_ ,” confirms Colin, “and it’s absolutely perfect.”

“But you love your car!”

“Trust me, Penelope. I’ve never loved my car as much as I do right now.”

“Colin?” she asks softly. His name now full of questions.

“Penelope,” he answers. And he can see her read the answer in the way he says her name. A soft smile appears in her face, full of wonder.

“Um, you are still… you know,” she says looking in the general direction of his lap, where she’s still sitting.

“I know.”

“I could help with that?” she ends in a question, as if could ever say no to her after this. Colin knows he will have to make her understand how much he wants her—he’s not even sure he understands it—and it will probably take some time for them to adapt to this.

He can’t wait.

“I would adore that,” he says, but stops her hand when it starts going down to press a kiss against her palm. “But I would adore it more it we did it in a place we won’t get mugged.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Would you please come home with me, Penelope Featherington?”

Her answering smile is as bright as the sun. “Yes I will, Colin Bridgerton,” she mumbles against his lips before kissing him softly and—with a grown on his part—returning to the passenger seat.

She looks at him after he starts the engine and blushes furiously. “We really did make a mess of the car,” she says.

“I know,” says Colin, driving with utter focus on the road and directing a smile in her direction. “Wasn’t it _great_?”


End file.
